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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24741001">Jump in the Puddles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthestarsshine/pseuds/allthestarsshine'>allthestarsshine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bill Denbrough is a Good Friend, Bill Denbrough is a Mess, Death, Depression, F/M, How Do I Tag, Loss, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad, Suicidal Thoughts, The Losers Club Are Good Friends (IT)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:01:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,895</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24741001</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthestarsshine/pseuds/allthestarsshine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill copes with the death of his best friend and crush.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bill Denbrough/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Jump in the Puddles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The funeral is the first time Bill leaves his house in a week. Ever since it happened, he hasn’t been right. He had already lost Georgie, which made him majorly depressed. And now, just ten months later, he lost his love. That’s what tipped him off the edge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill was absolutely in love with Y/n. Every part of her. Her sparkling eyes, her bold personality, the way she was always ready for adventures and challenges.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he never said anything, and it’s too late now. Why did he wait? She loved him back! Why the hell did he wait?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every night, Bill wakes up in a cold sweat, vividly remembering every painstaking detail. The way Bowers grabbed Y/n from behind, clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle her shocked screams, so no one could notice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Give me the gun, Hanlon,” he said quietly. Everyone slowly turned to face Y/n, whose eyes were flooded with panic. Bowers arm squeezed her own arms to her body so she can’t escape. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What the f-f-fuck? L-let her guh-go!” Bill ran to him, but Henry kicked his chest, making his scrawny body fall to the stone ground.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t th-th-think you’ll get your wish today, B-B-Billy. Now give me the gun, Hanlon.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hell, no,” Mike’s voice was calm as he clutched the gun closer to him. Enraged, Bowers leapt at him, knocking Y/n and Mike over in the process. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I SAID, GIVE ME THE MOTHERFUCKING GUN!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mike tried to hold onto Y/n as tightly as possible, which made him lose the grip on the gun. Henry’s hands were free, so he grabbed the gun with one hand, and yanked Y/n’s hair with the other. He pulled her back, pointing the cold barrel up against her temple. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Losers were frozen.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s you that I’ve always wanted,” Bowers whispered in her ear. “And now it’s going to be the two of us. Unless your stupid friends come one step closer to you. Then I swear to God, I’ll pull the trigger. So go down that well, losers, and everything will be okay.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/n nodded at her friends, a silent plead to leave. They exchanged looks of mutual agreement. Ever so slowly, Bill rose from where he was crumpled on the ground. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Y/n looked directly into his cerulean eyes with adoration.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I love you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Her confession was nothing but a hushed whimper, but it meant everything to Bill. It gave him even more courage to go through with his spontaneous plan.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To throw Bowers off, he started to take a step back. But then Bill reached out and took hold of his wrist, ready to break it so he could drop the gun. But Henry’s reflexes were too quick. He pulled the trigger.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s when Bill always wakes up, occasionally screaming his throat raw, like he did that day. But no one is there to comfort him when he sits up, trying to hard to catch his breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To pacify himself, Bill usually goes to the bathroom and splashes cold water on his face. Then, he goes back to his room and squeezes the living daylights out of her teddy bear. Y/n’s parents gave it to him after it happened. Said she’d want him to have it. It still smells like her, so Bill buries his face in the top of its head, taking in every bit of her scent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When it’s daytime, he’ll refuse to leave his room to do anything but eat and shower and go to the bathroom. While he’s shut up in there, Bill will look at his drawings of Y/n or draw some more. Also, there are times where he’ll lie down and stare at the ceiling, stuttering to Y/n and Georgie up above.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’ll talk to them about any and everything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I m-m-miss you g-guys.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ri-Richie and Muh-Mike c-c-called today. W-w-wanted to see how I’m h-h-holding up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Beverly b-b-brought me ice cream. Ruh-ruh-reminded me of both of y-y-you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Most often, and most heartbreakingly, Bill says, “This is a-a-all my f-f-f-fault! I-I-I’m sorry; it sh-should have b-b-been me. I can’t believe I kuh-kuh-killed fucking both of y-you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Drowning in sorrow and guilt, Bill is certainly spiraling. It didn’t help his mental situation when Y/n’s parents asked him to say a few words at her funeral. He couldn’t say no, but he also didn’t know what to write. So here Bill is, the day of the funeral, with red eyes and no speech.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stan’s dad picks him up, so Bill sits in the backseat with Richie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good to see you, Bill,” his friend greets him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Stan twists around from shotgun to say hello.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All Bill can stutter out is, “H-h-hi.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In perfect funeral fashion, raindrops start to gently patter against the windshield. Then they start to get more aggressive, pounding down on the car. It makes Bill want to cry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he starts sniffing, Stan awkwardly looks back and forth from him to Richie, who keeps patting Bill’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It takes every ounce of dignity he has to get out of the car and walk into the church. In the lobby, her parents are standing next to her school photo, which is propped up. Laying eyes on Bill, Y/n’s mother holds out her arms. She thanks him for coming, and tells him to sit in the pew with her family and the rest of the speakers. Luckily, Eddie, who was her closest friend in the world, is next to her older sisters. Bill slides next to him, and Eddie instantly wraps his arms around the sobbing ginger, letting him empty out his tears into his shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the funeral starts, Bill can’t pay mattention. First, he fumes over the fact that she’s in a fucking casket; she would have wanted to be creamated with her ashes spread all over the world. Next, he starts freaking out because he can’t remember what her voice sounded like. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What was one thing she said a lot?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bill.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t anything special about how she said his name. It’s just a normal word, after all. But whenever Y/n addressed him by name, Bill’s heart would go racing. So that’s how he’s going to remember her voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he begins to ponder on the source of his nightmares. The day they defeated It. The day she was murdered. Bill replays the scene in his head, recalling every detail. But it doesn’t end when she collapses to the ground, like it does in his dreams. No, his mind always loses control and keeps going.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When Y/n’s limp body hit the cement, there was a moment of stillness and shock. But then Bill, though small, pounced on Bowers, sending them both to the floor. Pinning him down with his knees, Bill punched him over and over, and beat him to a bloody pulp. He genuinely could have killed him if it weren’t for the Losers holding him back. They needed to finish what they started.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And when they defeated It, they went straight back to the Neibolt house to recover Y/n’s body. She was matted with blood and dirt, but she still looked lovely as ever. They all sobbed over her corpse, Bill yanking his hair and screaming at himself.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“H-h-how cuh-could y-y-you do th-this? This is a-all yuh-your f-f-f-fault.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill couldn’t forget that night, either. Triple checking to see if his parents were asleep. Stealing his dad’s keys. Entering his car, fully aware that he had no clue how to drive. Having every intention to crash and burn, quite literally. Even starting it up. But then he considered Georgie and Y/n. They’d want him- </span>
  <em>
    <span>need </span>
  </em>
  <span>him to keep living. And the rest of the Losers would never forgive him if he left them. He broke down in the car, but luckily never turned the key. What if he had, though?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bill!” Eddie shakes his friend's arm, waking him from his daze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re up,” he says gently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Subconsciously, Bill stands up and follows his feet to the podium. He’s shaking as he takes his place behind the mic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell am I supposed to say here?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-Y-Y-Y/n was a wuh-wuh-wonder-wonderful puh-person. Sh-sh-she w-was…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s more than humiliating. Usually his stutter goes away when he’s making speeches. But now it’s worse than ever. People are starting to shift uncomfortably in their seats, whispering to each other out of pity. And if there’s anything Bill hates in the world, it’s when people pity his stutter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Embarrassed, he shakes his head and shuffles back to his seat. Eddie pats his knee.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Bill. She knows.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Does she? There are a million things Bill wanted to say up there and all he could manage to get out was that she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful</span>
  </em>
  <span>? It sounds so superficial. He just longs to tell her everything on his mind and to kiss her and date her and marry her and grow old together. Now she won’t do any of that with anyone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And it’s all his fault.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only thing Bill can do to redeem himself is be the best friend he can be to everyone else and always speak his truth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only the immediate family and Y/n’s closest friends- the Losers- walk her casket to the cemetery next door. It’s still pouring, so Bill holds up a black umbrella that her grandmother handed to him. He’s in the back of the procession, telling the rest of the ever so patient Losers to go ahead in front of him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they finally put Y/n in the ground, the pastor gives a blessing and announces that it’s anyone’s last chance to say a few words. Shocking everyone, Bill steps forward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“M-me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Losers look at each other nervously, but don’t try to stop him. Bev goes and gives him a quick back rub in encouragement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y/n was… special. Not that no one else is. Everyone’s special in their own way. But what I loved about Y/n is that she wasn’t extravagant. She was confident, but not over the top. And she didn’t really have many stories to tell. She was more about the little things. That’s what I associate her with. Like… like the way she helped me love rainy days again! I hated that it was raining on her funeral today, but she would have loved that. She always jumped in the puddles like a five year old, and made me do it too. Or… or the way she always held her friends hands when they were sad. Both of their hands. And her’s were always soft because she wore that lotion that smelled like coconut. And the way she was the last to fall asleep at sleepovers, so she’d always wake one of us up because she was so bored and lonely and frustrated that she couldn’t sleep. I could name millions of little things that she did… we all could. That’s what I want to remember her by.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill turns to look at the Losers. Some are grinning and some are wiping tears from their cheeks and some are doing both. Mike holds out his arms, to which Bill runs into. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just like that, Bill’s stutter is back. “C-c-come on, g-guys. Let’s go juh-jump in the p-p-puddles.”</span>
</p>
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